The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-11-13


You love her more than mel!
''Oh, no. no." cried Irene again, breaking down
II don't feeimi don't know what to dol" ''e'
She, too, it was plain, shared the general
worship and absorption. she has cast her
eyes upon you'll" exclaimed Gervais. ''The
basiliskl" And so things drifted on, apparently
remaining much as before. But there are al
ways currents underneath the tide.
Ny eminence as a portrait painter-not to
unquestioned, and at my own time And as
Mrs. Adriance knew my ideas concerning the
necessity of studying the character of my sitter,
she revealed herself on one occasion after this
semi-eonfdential fashion. Thus I did not feel
called upon to show her my sketches for her
picture, nor the outlines of Irene that made
furtively, finding it not easy to obtain the pre-
else transparency Of tint beside which the sea-
shells pink was opaque, my pencil fascinated,
too, with the exquisite droop of eye and lip
where all melancholy seemed to linger.
But while was still pursuing my studies,
NJ rs Adriance was evolving new opportunities
sit is really out Of the question" she said, sto
allow things to go in this way any longer,
Irene. There is no state much worse than
prolonged engagement; it would unsettle the
mind of college faculty. One can attend to no
duties properly, with all ones interest elsewhere
1t keeps one in a condition of bristling cleo
tricity.
"You are absorbed and distracted in Gervais
now, and feel it. We all feel it. One must
bring the matter to an end, either by marriage
or by dismissal And in this case, Irene, am
sure your good sense viii direct you as to the
'.Oh" cried Irene, all the pink flush mounting
ana deepening and then dying away In deadly
pallor. ''You can't mean"
eyes. assuredly," said Mrs. Adriance, calmly
opening opt and shutting her great fan of crimson
ostrich feathers. II mean that your wisest way
is to tell Gervais to cease to see you or care for
you"
Gas if-as if he COULD" cried Irene, in burst
OF passion which was like revelation.
"My dear! Such vehemence! could not
believe you capable of the shocking taste of it.
Surely it is best that Gervais should make the
effort. You who are usually so self forgetful-it
surprises that you should fail to see the in
jury you are doing Gervais by the continuance
of this hopeless affair. He is simply wasting
happiness he might secure elsewhere by marry
ing young woman in his own station of life"
His own station| cried Irene, trembling like
an aspen leaf. "Is that not the same ours?"
"ObEgeme, Irene, by not repeating my words
1t strikes me there is difference between your
uncle's position, with his rank, and influence and
social weight-to say nothing of myself-and
that OF pennlless clerk on salary! 1t might
strike another There is difference If
Gervais married a person accustomed to more
than he could give, he would have a chance for
happiness, reason for saving his salary, home
that would interest him. and occupy him and
prevent his rushing to dissipation, lone could
see that every word went through Irene like a
stab for, it is, Ifear he falling into the way
of amusing and abstracting himself as he may
and takes far too much wine for his safety
Don't make me any reply, my dear. But when
ciously, with an eye to Gervais's best good, as
have, and am you to but one
decision. I would not see him again, would
return his letters, his trifling gifts, and put an
end to the whole vexatious business at once.
Now if you will open the Sign of the Lyre,
where were youa That Story from Diction-
ary,' wasn't it,"
AS the king said, SO was it done.
was toying with my pencils day or two af
forwards when Mrs. Adriance came up, and
rang presently for Irene who brought in her
hand book containing some fanciful arabesque
designs which Mrs. Adriance wished me to see
the book 1.-THE Thousand Nights and One
Night"
Mrs. Adriance threw herself back in the
depths of the wicker chair, unwinding the scarf
and lace she had on her head. Now am your
sitter. SIR" she said. ..And, Irene read me
something. anything, so that I shall not go to
sleep-l want some vlvaclty IN the pictured"
And IreneSopened the book at random, and with
a faltering voice began reading the tale of the
young prince whose beautiful wife leaves him
atnight and whom he discovers to be vampire
at her horrid feast.
what did you understand a vampire to be,
before this readinga" I asked at its conclusion.
"a bat of some sort, said Mrs. Adriance, hes
itatingly.
81 never quite knew. I associate the idea
with that of the ghoul who devours the dead
''But it is revolting2'
81 see now however. thatit is one of the dead
who obtains what passes for life by absorbing
the life of the living"
''You make me shudder!" cried Mrs.
Adriance
Didn't the storyq"
''Too unreal, after ALL"
''It all resolves itself into the question of
what it is to live, and what it is to be dead. To
1ive-is to be sentient of all other life. to feel
the emotions and sensations of all other beings
to be aware through every pore and at every
pulse of the life of others
''How few hve!" said Irene, looking up with
her sad eyes.
THAT is very pretty poetry" said Mrs.
Adriance. ''But poetry And about the dead?,
1--WE will have no dealings with the Dead I
said but the vampire,-the ghoul-we meet
her any day" And went on with my paint
That night. after Mrs Adriance had gone out
radiant in her claret velvets and diamonds
Irene came softly down the stairs, her face
white the little ivory chest she carried the
shrine doubt that held her love letters and
her keepsakes. 1t was Gervais who waited for
her in the alcove off the drawing room where
the lights were low. I went out for stroll in
the frosty air myself. Perhaps I did not stay
long enough, for, letting myself in again in the
course of the hour. heard broken cry. saw
passionate embrace, and Gervais dashed head
long by me- and Irene fell fanting-to the floor
if had not caught her in season.
1t was tearsodden face that Irene brought
to the table next morning where by her aunt
she was pronounced to have decided influenza.
But at dinner she was unable to be present at
all. and for several days thereafter she failed to
appear.
"Once over affair of this sort the nerve is
dead and done with. And then it is for the
childs lasting good. Yet it is incomprehensible
else-that yellow hair of his always looked so
crude-for my own part could never endure
this Gervais very near to me. And he was in
effably wearisome."
/ suspended my work for some weeks at this
time in order that Mrs. Adriance might accom-
pany her husband southern journey. and
did not return to the house during that time
being occupied, 1 may as well say, with the
care of Gervais. who. wild with grief. and rage,
and longing and despair, needed such care as be-
longs to hayward child; his face CHASTITY. his
health shattered, his reason unsettled and his
heart broken. ut is of use," he cried.
There is nothing for me to do about it. She
herself gave the coup de grace. She said it had
been an idle fancy. she said she had never loved
me, she said she wished for her freedom. She
has cared nothing for me, she has trified with
me, she has played upon me, and she has driven
me mad!"
did the best could in the way of comfort-it
was nothing If one had gone to the house and